Silence hung in the air. He probably shouldn’t have mentioned his past or missions. They had still never discussed that night in Avonai, the night he had assassinated Lord Gaynor.
Lore lowered his bowl. “Then you were not the pampered prince I thought you were.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I do enjoy finer things. But I had to earn those.” Time to steer the conversation another direction. He and Lore had just started acting civil with one another. He didn’t want to destroy that tendril of friendship.
“I’ve forgiven you, you know.”
Caleb looked up. “What?”
Lore placed his bowl down on his knee. “I’ve forgiven you. For that night in Avonai.”
He stared at Lore, his jaw locked. Only two other people had ever forgiven him. Delshad, the night he murdered him, and the Word. He looked down and tapped the side of his bowl with his spoon. He paused, his eyes still on his bowl. “I have done many things in my life, things that needed to be done, so I thought. I know better now.” He waited one heartbeat, then glanced up. “I am sorry.”
Lore gave him a firm nod.
No more words needed to be spoken on the matter. It was done between them.
Lore picked up his bowl and began eating again.
Caleb looked down at his cereal and let out the breath he had been holding. He couldn’t say those words to Delshad’s widow, or the countless other widows and orphans he had taken from. But it felt good to say it to Lore. Like a piece of him had mended with those words. A small smile touched his lips and he took a bite.
Nierne came back a couple minutes later, her hair a shade darker from the water and hanging in long ringlets down her back. The blue tunic made her grey eyes look dark and the pants fit her perfectly. Her hair had grown quite a bit since last year. He liked it long.
“Want some breakfast?” Caleb held up the other bowl he had filled.
“Yes. One moment . . .” She hung her old clothes, now damp, across a bush and stuffed something in her pack. She turned back and took the bowl. He caught a whiff of lavender as she bent down and his smile grew.
Nierne sat on one of the boulders and ate. Lore and Caleb helped themselves to another bowl of cereal. A light breeze sprang up from the ocean and moved the grass like waves across the hills.
Caleb put his empty bowl down beside him and looked at the other two. “Where should we head next?”
Lore finished his last bite. “Let’s look at the map you found.” He placed his bowl beside Caleb’s.
Nierne looked up. “You found a map?”
“Yes.” Caleb pulled out the cream-colored vellum. It was stained and torn in two places.
“Maps are rare. I wonder how one came to be in Deraude?”
He shrugged and held it out.
Nierne came and sat down beside him. She leaned over, her gaze on the map. Lavender filled his nose. Yes, he definitely liked the smell.
She shook her head and made a small tsk sound. “This map was not taken care of properly. Vellum like this should not have been left in high humidity. Look, there’s mold growing in the right corner.”
What was she talking about? He studied the map and noticed a large dot on the coast north of them and the word Thyra beside it.
Lore came to sit on his other side, but not as close. “I don’t think marching right into Thyra is a good idea.”
“I agree.” Caleb tapped his lower lip. “A covert approach would be better.”
Nierne sat back. “That will not be easy if shadows are still patrolling the city. You’re safe, but the rest of us . . .” She shrugged.
Caleb frowned. “Even then, I don’t know how many I could take on. Each shadow I banish drains me. It seems wiser to find a secret way into Thyra, to spy out the city. Do you know of any other gates or doors?”
Nierne nodded. “Yes, a couple.”
“Wait—” Lore held out his hand, his body rigid.
Caleb held still. Yes, he heard it too. He closed his eyes and concentrated, but he didn’t feel the chill that usually accompanied the shadow-wraiths. Instead, he felt the life wisps of men just beyond the trees.
Lore crouched and moved to the right, toward the nearest trees, using the tall grass to hide. Nierne sat still beside him, waiting. He would wait here as well, and let Lore flush out the people.
He held up the map again as if looking at it. “There is someone behind us,” he whispered to Nierne. “Act as if we are still discussing the map.”
She stiffened, but gave a short nod and pointed at the map. “There are four major gates into Thyra.” Her voice quivered. “One at each point on the compass.”
He reached down and drew the dagger from his boot. “And where are the other entrances you spoke of?”
A scuffle broke out behind them.
In one swift move, he was on his feet, the dagger between his fingers, his hand back and ready to throw. About twenty feet away Lore had a man by the back of his collar, his sword pointed to the man’s lower back.
The man was short and broad, with light reddish hair that hung around his face and a matching beard. His clothes were stained and torn, and there was a wild look to his appearance. Behind Lore were three other men, just as ragged looking, with their swords drawn and pointed at Lore. Two looked like brothers, dark hair and long beards. The other was half a head taller, with brown hair and a crooked nose.
The first man stopped struggling when he saw Caleb’s dagger.
Nierne stood. “Cargan?”
The man Lore held went rigid, his eyes widening as he stared at Nierne. “You! I know you. You’re that scribe that went with Father Reth almost a year ago.” He looked past Nierne, then around. “Where is Father Reth? Is he here too?”
She shook her head. “No.”
His eyes darted between Caleb’s dagger and Nierne. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Yes.”
Caleb lowered his dagger, but kept it ready. “Hold on. Nierne, you know these men?”
She looked at Cargan, then the men behind him. “Just the one Lore is holding. Cargan is his name. He escaped Thyra during the siege and was acting leader of the Thyrian refugees.”
“Still am,” he said gruffly. “And can you please tell your friend to watch it with his sword? I haven’t survived all this time just to have my back stabbed by a stranger.”
Lore tightened his grip. “Not until we know why you are here.”
“We saw the smoke and came to investigate.”
“The smoke is from the makeshift pyre we made for the bodies.”
Cargan glanced back at Lore. “Bodies?”
“The whole village was dead when we arrived.”
Cargan cursed long and loud. The other men behind him shifted and one looked away. “I told them they weren’t safe, that the shadows were spreading. They didn’t believe us.” He spit. “Fools.”
Nierne frowned. “What do you mean the shadows are spreading?”
“The wraiths have left Thyra and are attacking the villages in Kerre. We’ve been trying to hide as many people as possible, but we are running out of space, and some don’t believe us, like Deraude.”
“So there are still people here in Kerre?”
“Of course, girl. They haven’t caught all of us, not yet.”
“How have you avoided the Shadonae and their shadows?”
“Long story.” Cargan threw another irritated glance back at Lore. “And I suspect you have a long story too, which probably includes these two men you’re with. So how about we put down our weapons.”
Lore let go of Cargan’s collar, but kept his sword trained on the man. “Tell your men to lower their weapons, then I will lower mine.”
“And why should I trust you?”
“I give you my word as Captain Lore Palancar of the White City.”
Cargan’s eyes widened. “Well, well, that is quite a title. Men, lower your weapons, but keep them out.”
The three men with Cargan lowered their swords. Lore lowered his as well and walked around Cargan. Caleb and Nierne joined him and stood a couple feet in front of Cargan.
“And who is the other man you travel with?” Cargan pointed at Caleb.
Nierne glanced at him, then back at Cargan.
Before she could speak, he answered. “Caleb Tala.”
“Tala? As in the Tala family of the Temanin Empire?”
“Lord Corin Tala is my cousin.”
Cargan looked back at Nierne. “Quite some men you travel with. But what about the Eldarans? You were sent out to find them, not captains and princes, as impressive as they are.” He gave them each a polite nod.
Caleb still had his dagger in his hand, his fingers itching to let it fly.
The tall man with the crooked nose came up to Cargan and whispered in his ear.
“I’m sorry.” Cargan held up his hand. “Philip is right. We should find a better place to talk than out here in the open. One of our hideouts is nearby. We’ve been keeping an eye on Deraude, not that it helped much in the end. But first, your weapons.”
Lore held his sword up. “I’m afraid not, gentlemen. We’ve been through too much to relinquish our weapons to men we do not know.”
Caleb snorted. Like sands he was going to give up his daggers. Not that he would be weaponless if they did take his daggers. He still had Veritas. He was pretty sure the sight of him drawing a sword out from his palm would unnerve them. He grinned at the thought. Nierne glanced at him and frowned.
Cargan held up his hands. “All right, you can keep one sword and one dagger. The rest we take.”
Lore nodded. “Fair enough.” He sheathed his sword and turned toward Caleb. “Let me give them your daggers as an act of faith.”
He growled, his dagger still out and his eyes on the men.
“We both know you could take them even without your daggers,” he said quietly.
Caleb studied the men. They were guards and family men. Not fighters. “True.” He flipped the dagger over and handed it to Lore. He then pulled his other two out from either side of his waist, but kept the one strapped to his chest. There was a satisfaction in watching the men’s eyes grow wide with each weapon he withdrew.
Lore turned and brought the daggers to Cargan, placing them at his feet. “It’s all we have.”
Cargan eyed the daggers. “That’s it?”
“Yes. We chose to travel light across the Great Desert.”
“What?” He jerked his head back up. The other men murmured. “Did you say the Great Desert? You crossed the Great Desert?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you came by ship, or up the coast from Hont. The Great Desert. Huh. That’s going to be some story you have to tell.”
“I’m sure you’ll find it fascinating.”
Cargan picked up the daggers and handed them to one of his men, who stuffed them in a small sack he pulled out from the folds of his cloak.
Caleb narrowed his eyes. Those were not toys the men carried. He better get his daggers back.
“All right, then. Gather up your belongings. We won’t be coming back here any time soon.” Cargan pointed toward the trees. “We’ll be heading this direction.”
Lore and Nierne turned back toward their camp.
Caleb crossed his arms. “What about our horses?”
Cargan shook his head. “No horses. They’ll bring attention to us. Besides, where we’re going, the horses won’t like.”
“And where would that be?”
“Underground.”
He didn’t like the idea of leaving the horses behind. But if what Cargan said was true, then the horses were better off here, where there was plenty of water and grass. “Fine. Let me get my stuff.”
Caleb turned around. Lore already had his things packed and was heading back to the men. Nierne was still stuffing her blanket inside her pack. He grabbed all his things and the supplies he had found, and put them in his own pack. He slung the pack on, its weight digging into his shoulder, and headed back.
Cargan’s men had fanned out, each one facing a different direction, swords ready. Caleb shook his head. Those swords would do nothing against a shadow. But if it made them feel safer . . .
He was the last one to join the group. Nierne came to stand beside him, the scent of lavender clinging to her clothes. Cargan gave some instructions, but he wasn’t listening. Were there any women amongst the refugees? He didn’t like the idea of Nierne in a camp full of men. Yes, she grew up in a monastery. However, those men had taken vows of celibacy. He doubted these men had, especially with the way one of the brothers kept glancing at her.
Caleb gave the man a long, hard look until the man looked away.
“This way.” Cargan turned toward the trees. “And stay quiet. The cave’s entrance is not far off.” He started toward the trees. The rest of the men followed, each on alert. Lore went after, followed by Nierne. He brought up the rear, his senses ready for any shadows.
Chapter
32
Nierne had forgotten how beautiful Kerre was. It wasn’t wild like the Ryland Plains and the White City, or dry and ancient like Temanin. It was calm, peaceful, and quiet. Or at least it used to be.
Now a shroud of grey and death hung over the land.
Cargan led the small group through a forest nestled between two hills. A creek ran between the trees, the water trickling softly across moss-covered stones. Golden leaves fluttered down from the trees and landed in the clear water. Nierne stopped and watched the leaves float along like yellow teardrops.
Caleb touched her arm. “You don’t want to fall too far behind.”
Nierne looked over and found the group had already crossed the creek twenty feet away and were heading toward the side of the hill. She made her way through the tall grass along the creek with Caleb beside her.
“Do you trust Cargan?” His gaze was focused on the man leading the group.
She didn’t answer at first. Trust had so many nuances to it. “It’s been a year since I last saw Cargan. And even then, I was only with him for a couple days before Father Reth and I left for the White City.” She stepped on the stones that stood within the rushing water and made her way across the creek. Caleb followed without making a sound.
“So you don’t really know him.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Should I keep an eye on him?”
Nierne looked over at Caleb. He was still staring at Cargan, his posture and look reminding her of a predator.
“Yes.”
He glanced at her. “Really? And why do you say that?”
“Because I don’t know him. And I don’t know how he will react when he finds out who you are.”
“He already knows who I am.”
“He doesn’t know you’re a Guardian. Father Reth and I were sent to find the Eldarans, but I don’t think most people know about them. About you. If they saw your mark, or your power, I don’t know how they would react.”
He remained silent as they walked through the trees behind the rest of the group.
“You have to understand, these people were captured, tortured, and killed by men like you.”
Caleb jerked his head in her direction.
She held her palms up. “Men with power. There might be more fear than trust on their part. That, coupled with the fact that many Thyrians hold little love for Temanins, could cause you trouble. So I would advise caution. And don’t let them see your mark, at least not at first.”
He nodded, a frown on his face. “Did you also feel that way about Temanins?”
Nierne thought back to the night she saw the Temanin war camp. She had read the Temanin
scrolls and knew they were a violent and bloody people. However, she had never really held the prejudices others did for the Temanin people. Perhaps it was Father Reth’s influence. He had traveled all the Lands and told her every culture had their good and their bad. “No, not really.”
“But you were scared of me.”
She glanced over at him. “Who wasn’t?”
“True. But what about now?”
She turned back and followed the narrow trail between the trees. “No. I’m not scared of you.” Not any more.
The only sound was the soft patter of their feet across the ground. Cargan slowed as he approached the side of a hill surrounded by thick bushes and tall grass. He turned left and followed the bottom of the hill around a curve. On the other side there was a patch of dirt in the side of the hill, with a dark hole the size of a small desk.
Cargan motioned toward the gap. “In here, and quick.”
The two brothers went first, followed by Lore. Nierne went next, Caleb behind her. Cargan and the other man, Philip, brought up the rear. The air smelled heavily of soil and natural decay. Moss covered the ground and roots stuck out from the wall and roof. Bits of dirt fell on her head. She glanced up. How stable was this cave?
About ten feet in, the roof tilted downward. Nierne bent down and kept moving. The men had a harder time. Lore slowed down in front of her and had to go down on his knees.
She could hardly see now in the darkness and dirt continued to fall across her head. She breathed faster. She hated closed in spaces.
The roof tilted downward more until she was forced onto her knees along with the men. The air was warm, almost choking. I can’t do this, she breathed. Sweat broke out along her forehead and her hands shook.
Caleb bumped into her from behind. “How much farther, Cargan?”
“Almost there.” Cargan’s voice came muffled and distant.
Nierne continued forward, pressing all her will into moving her hands and legs. Small, invisible rocks cut and scraped her hands. Just one more step. One more—
Heir of Hope (Follower of the Word Book 3) Page 27
